we always went at night. during the day, we dreamed...

it's been almost 10 years since my last visit to my uncle in jeddah - 10 years also since i last went to mecca. i was there in the summer of '99, so my memories may no longer be accurate, and since saudi is usually at its most alive at night, the things i've seen can't be trusted either. images and people and places become blurred at night, their harsher edges photoshopped out by the darkness.

stolen words

when you can' think of the right words yourself, look for quotes from others...

"we shall not cease from exploration
and the end of all our exploring
will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time."
- t s eliot

layers upon layer upon layers. truths resting on lies, resting on truths. one, two, three parts of a whole - like those little russian dolls. is each a part of one person, or are they three individual schizophrenic people inside one person? voices crowd the brain until one is no longer sure of oneself, but absolute silence is also a deadly impediment to progress - are we truly ourselves with those outside voices telling us who we are and what we should be, or are we truly ourselves in the silence, where our own lonely voice holds singular, oft-mistaken court? i'm not sure. but above all, there are simple truths which remain the same, constant over the years. like a love of reading. like a sense of identity. like a summer rainstorm.

let me count the ways...

luis moreno-ocampo.....

how do i love thee?

well, for one, i want this man's job.  badly.  a few months ago, "Time Magazine" ran an article of moreno-ocampo, standing in his battling ground in a hague courtroom.  the prosecutor for the international criminal court is my idea of a superhero.

my inner international politics nerd pines for him.  this is almost as bad as my first lecture with professor klaus von beyme in heidelberg.  i had read articles by him in my short political science independent study, and my heart palpitated wildly the day i first encountered him teaching.  i had to stop myself from rushing after him after the lecture to get his autograph on my copy of one of his articles.

i was a little more bold with francis fukuyama a few years later.  i'm pretty sure he's never had someone ask to get their picture taken with him before.  oh well, there's always a first time...

and so you're back, from outer space...

after a week or two of being lazy, allowing myself to fall into a "phase" (there are two phases in my brain, simplistically, which can be turned on and off at will by the surroundings they're in - the "writing phase", where words flow willingly from fingers adept with a pen or a keyboard, and the more dormant, hibernating "reader phase," where the brain turns itself off to all other aspects of life in order to become fully engrossed in a book or series...there is a rarer "tv/movie phase," in which said brain becomes engrossed in a tv series or a movie about to come out, but after the writer's strike, this one comes about only on the weekends, when i can surreptitiously download my favorite show, "doctor who"). for the past week or so, i've been in the reader phase, gleefully getting lost in a series of young adult novels recommended to me by a 23-year-old friend. i won't mention the name of the series (yet), as it's sure to warrant much throwing of tomatoes at the stage and laughter from the peanut gallery, but it's the type of guilty pleasure i would have really enjoyed in high school - in fact, it's exactly the type of book i would have read back then. but like the spice girls, my nancy drew mysteries, and the strangely short and choppy haircut i got in 9th grade, it's a guilty pleasure that will remain in secret until i can laugh about it later.

what got me blogging today? oh yes, this article in "vanity fair" - sometimes, i have to (grudgingly) like christopher hitchens...